


Paranormalcy

by wispedheart



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Blood, F/M, Injury, Kinda, Kitsune, Paranormal AU, Slow Burn, Tarasque, Werecats, Witches, it's a sanctuary city, just gotta see how it goes, might bump up the rating later, not too explicit in the description of the wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wispedheart/pseuds/wispedheart
Summary: In a world of humans, a sanctuary city for magical creatures is essential. Protection for this city is just as much so. But when attacks are coming from within rather than from outside their borders, the holders of the Miraculous stones find themselves in a jam.Throw in one of the protectors realizing that the attacker might be his own father... things start to go wrong.





	1. Prologue - A Catastrophic Getaway

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo! I know I haven't written anything in a while. This has been in the works for a bit, I'm currently in the middle of writing chapter two. My plan is to update it every Sunday. I'll try to add notes on any possible confusion concepts in the ANs, so keep an eye on them! Thank you!

Screams and shouts of both anger and excitement filled the lavish hallway like a phalanx of soldiers, unrelenting in their chase. They lie far behind their target, black cat a full stone’s throw ahead and more. More often than not, their target was concealed, hidden from view by the turn of a corner. Their only advantage lie in their sheer numbers. For every corner the cat turned, it felt as if there were more standing in the way.

The _twang_ of a bowstring sounded before he was halfway down the current hallway, sending him into a scrambled scatter. A leap onto the end table nearby was his savior. The arrow shot beyond him. Despite that, he winced when the vase previously atop it was sent to the floor. The sound of the ceramic shattering was nearly lost in the choir of sounds that already surrounded him. For a moment, he was frozen. The vase had been his grandmother’s. It was antique, unique enough to be the only one in existence. Should his father found out it was broken… heads would roll. And if what he suspected was correct, that phrase might not still be metaphorical.

Good thing he wouldn’t be around for the fallout.

He leapt off of the table, barely avoiding a second arrow’s path. The smooth wood stunted his leap a bit, and not for the first time he found himself grateful of the carpet that ran down the middle of every hallway, and the traction they provided. He followed it around the next corner, only noticing the change in the smell of the air once he was beyond it. The dull scent of forests and the salt of the nearby ocean flooded his senses. It both sharpened his mind and gave him a new destination. It would be a bit of a short drop; he’d certainly have to prepare his landing stance well before he was clear of the building, but it was an escape route all the same. The fact that he’d gotten so far without his Lady was a bit surprising to him, but if he escaped this unharmed, he’d _definitely_ have to put in a word or two about it.

Darting under a maid’s legs, Chat Noir scanned the walls, searching for the open window he was sure was there. Once he’d found it, he put on an extra burst of speed, momentarily forgetting his adversaries in his rush to escape.

In hindsight, it was only his instincts that saved him. He heard the sword coming more than he saw it, and turned mid-stride with a grace characteristic of a feline. It moved the blow’s location from a fatal strike to the neck to a slice down his side instead. Even so, he barely felt it, the adrenaline rushing through him more than enough to reduce it to little more than a sudden ache. Chat continued his leap, barely making it to the window sill. He didn’t pause there, vaulting off into the night air. He thrust his legs out straight underneath him, balancing himself before he hit the ground.

Even adrenaline wasn’t enough to take away the pain that arched through the werecat upon his landing. The force of it alone nearly took him off of his paws, and sent a yowl ripping from his lungs. The bell on his collar let out a slight jingle as it came out of the glamour, shimmering into existence around his neck. The Agreste estate was more than just a simple building. He wouldn’t be safe until he was off of the grounds and well into the woods. Even now, he could hear the shouts of his hunters three floors above as they continued their chase. It was that fear, as well as the pain, that made him completely miss the panicked reaction he felt from Ladybug’s half of their connection. Instead, Chat kicked back into a run. His paws practically ached with relief at the feel of hard-packed dirt and pine needles underneath his paws. He’d nearly forgotten what they felt like.

The shadows cast by the garden’s flora made it easy for him to disappear. He blended smoothly into the shadows, just as he’d done thousands of times before. The slight tingle that seemed to tickle along his pelt as his magic did the finishing touches on his camouflage was welcome. Cats were hard to find when they didn’t wish to be seen. Werecats… well, one might as well not look at all. Distantly, Chat knew he should be conserving his strength, especially if the wound was worse than it seemed. But until he was at least free of the area he didn’t want to risk even the smallest chance of being seen. Following that…. Well, he’d have to play it by ear.

Soon, the sounds of the mansion faded in the distance. The ground seemed to fall by under his paws, sped along by his jump from shadow to shadow. He was nearing the edge of the Agreste grounds when his collar warmed, alerting him of a message from his Lady. All it took was a small brush of magic against the bell for the message to be received, and his goal to be set.

Location clear in his mind, Chat Noir twisted into a new direction, lips curling at the feel of mud sinking between his pads. Between the blood, the branches, and the mud, he was sure he looked a mess. In the back of his mind, he mourned having to meet Ladybug looking like this. Mud balls didn’t get dates. But he trusted that she would have a better plan in mind than to simply hide up a tree until morning.

Now that he was away from danger, and settled into a steadier run, he could feel the wound on his side begin to ache, twinging in pain with each forward stretch of his paws. It got worse with each step, so Chat channeled a bit more magic into dulling the pain, at least until he’d reached his destination. He was beginning to catch the light of a building ahead, so it shouldn’t be long enough to deplete him entirely.

It was a little cottage, he realized as he drew close enough for the lights coming from the windows to allow him to make it out. It was cute, if he had to put a word to it. Smoke drifted from a neat chimney and the windows told him that there were two floors, as was typical to the homes of Parille. Flowers and plants seemed to surround the cottage in a sort of haphazard garden, and on the second floor a balcony extended, more plants piled along the railing. A multitude of different smells came from the only visible ground floor window, ranging from the sharp tang of herbs to his Lady’s distinctive smell. Primarily, however, it smelled of somebody else, enough so that the scent tugged on his memory like a loose thread in a cloth, not close enough to unravel and give him a name or face, but enough so to leave him curious.

Chat slowed to a stop near the back window. Ladybug leaned out of it above him, worry clear on her features. Guilt at being the cause of that worry pricked at the back of his mind. He released the spells he’d been holding up, well aware that the fallout wouldn’t be good.

And it wasn’t. The wave of pain and exhaustion that hit him as soon as the magic had melted free of his fur hit him with the force of a bird against a clear glass window. He wavered, then collapsed to the ground, wavering consciousness melting his surroundings into half forms of green and brown and _red_.


	2. Lucky Charm

In the middle of what many legends claimed to be an endless forest lay a city. It was old, some even claimed ancient, littered with buildings both old and new, and people just the same. The city was one you could consider anything but ordinary. Magic permeated the foundations of every building and those who knew this would be hard-pressed not to wander the streets and find at least one reason why. Sometimes, it was subtle. These subtleties came in the form of the glinting of sharpened teeth and eyes just a shade too bright. Or perhaps, in bottles of green liquids changing hands in the darkest alleyways, or foreign words whispered under a passerby’s breath. However, other times it wasn’t so low key. Kitsune or witches with dragons on their shoulder walking down the streets were simply hard to ignore. Parille was well-known as a sanctuary city for all magical creatures, but perhaps even better for those who guarded it. The Miraculous stones were rare on their own, but when in the correct hands, they left the city nearly impenetrable by those who wished to harm it. It made its occupants some of the safest in the world.

            One such occupant sat alone in a cottage near the edge of the city. The building was entrenched in trees, which provided it its own sort of quaint privacy from the town only a stone’s throw away. Inside of the cottage, a dress lay splayed out in the woman’s lap, the rip in the seam nearly completely repaired. The interior of the cottage was chaotic but seemed to hold a overall sense of gentle cheer in its furnishing. One window was open, despite the fire that blazed in the fireplace. Between the ceiling lights, the fire, and the moonlight streaming in through the window, the whole room was well-lit.

            A gentle _snip_ broke the silence as Marinette cut and tied off her thread, rip repaired. Task complete, the seamstress bounced to her feet, shaking the dress lightly to rid it of any wrinkles. She held it up to the light, inspecting it with an iron gaze. Evidently deeming it acceptable, she crossed the room and hung it up with the others. On a normal day, she would use her sewing machine for such repairs, but the tear was small enough she figured fixing it by hand would be less trouble.

            Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through her side, sending her into a crouch on the floor, hands clutching uselessly at the ache. It momentarily took over all of her senses, leaving her wading in a pool that left here aware of nothing but what felt like some sort of weapon slashing through her. Exhaustion came with it, so sudden and powerful that her vision swam. Her earrings burning in her ears was her only notification that the sensations were not her own.

            “Chat,” she whimpered, pushing herself to her feet. One hand still gripped tightly on the source of the pain, despite being perfectly healthy. Stumbling slightly, she made her way into the cluttered kitchen, pushing aside an assortment of herbs, stones, dishes, and sewing supplies to free a space on the stone surface. For years, Tikki had warned her that such a thing might happen. She’d told her in no uncertain terms that she and Chat’s stones were heavily connected and had been since their creation. All the same, she’d never thought so drastic anything would come of it. She rarely felt anything from her stone when they were apart, and when they were together, the stones didn’t relay anything she didn’t already know was happening. Even so, outside of battles, she didn’t see Chat Noir often. The days that he came to meetings before he’d disappeared were rare and even then he’d always brought a strange yellow werecat with him. It might seem normal, considering his name, but the way it always stared at her got to be unnerving. Chat was always so much more subdued at those times… like it was sucking all the life out of him somehow. During battles, he was much friendlier, enough so that, at times, she wondered if he was perhaps two different people. It’d only been a few months since he’d disappeared and she was sure that the yellow werecat was somehow to blame.

            It didn’t take her long to find the herbs she thought she might need, as well as the other supplies. Even if her home was currently in a sort of chaos (preparing for a formal ball was hard work when you were the best affordable seamstress in town), she had a knack for finding order in it. Usually she kept her space much cleaner, but for now, pushing things into a pile would do. Before long, the little space she’d made was filled with several neat piles, each seeming out of place in the mess that surrounded it. A towel large enough for a werecat had been set out, just in case he showed up in his animal form. That done, she locked the door made her way to each of the front windows, checking to be sure the curtains were drawn tight. It went against most of her principles to do this, but Marinette supposed she had no choice.

            “Spots on!” she called, reaching up to tap at her earring with her free hand. The stone glinted, and burst into a pink light, covering her within moments. Her simple shirt and pants were quickly replaced by a design Tikki had made years ago, long enough now that the feel of the fabric against her skin was like the touch of an old friend. Black thigh-high boots covered her legs, while two sashes covered the shorts she wore just above them. A half-sleeved top rested under a hooded cape and a necklace with three black stones upon it. It was certainly not something she’d ever design, but it was easy to move in, which was the important part.

            The pain seemed to have faded, now that she’d responded to it. Ladybug reached to her hip, pulling the yo-yo free and popping it open. She could never quite figure out how all the functions fit inside; it was given to her with the outfit. Part of her supposed it was some complex spell, not one she ever had even a small sliver of hope to understand. It reminded her of a smartphone, in a way, but with less space for the actual wiring. Plus, it’d definitely been around before technology. Navigating the controls easily, she pulled up the locator for Chat Noir. It wasn’t something she’d ever used outside of battle. The invasion of his privacy left a nasty sense of guilt in her stomach. Now wasn’t the time to be shy, however.

            He appeared to be in the forest between her own house and the Agreste mansion. Why he was there, she would never know, but she needed to draw him here as soon as possible. Tapping the small symbol that represented him, Ladybug turned on her own location and set the compass that would lead him to her. It would give away both her name and identity, but Tikki would agree with her on this. That sort of pain had to be a life-threatening wound.

            Preparations complete, she rushed to the back window and rested her hands on the sill, leaning out into the night. All she could do now was wait, and hope Chat made it to her in one piece. A quick glance at her yo-yo revealed he was traveling fast, much faster than she’d expected. He must have been using magic, though she worried about him depleting his energy like that. He’d need as much as he could get if he was going to heal at any reasonable speed. They had a city to protect, after all. Minutes passed, during each of which Ladybug gripped tightly to the windowsill, her breath caught in her chest like magma in an awakening volcano, yearning to break free but unable to do so. Chat’s dot moved steadily, drawing closer and closer until she swore she could hear his paws brushing against the spongy floor of the wood.

            But that would be impossible. After all, werecats were never captured for more reasons than insufficient generated interest in such an activity. Any sounds she heard were simply produced by her mind convincing itself that something was coming. Ladybug truly saw neither hide nor tail of Chat Noir until he wished her to see him, collapsing bloodied and muddy outside of her window.

            He was in a state unlike anything that she’d seen before. As Ladybug, she found herself called for different things daily. A potion for warts here, to fill the role of a midwife there. Healing was a day to day activity that she’d long since grown used to, even with the help of other Miraculous stone holders. But a being’s magic was so much more than just energy. It was a creature’s life pooled into action, and each extra drop Chat had depleted only added to the river that already flowed out by way of his wound. Even if their Miraculous stones hadn’t been bonded, she would have been able to see the way his usual lake of magic had become little more than a puddle.

The yo-yo dropped from her fingers, wrapping about its master’s hips on its own energy. Quickly, Ladybug climbed out of the window, scooping up the small body as carefully as one could in a hurry. She shuffled back inside with just a bit of magic to aid her. The way through the cottage was short despite the carnage inside, though she wasted precious seconds in her attempts to set her friend on the counter as painlessly as she’d lifted him. Her only assurance that he hadn’t dropped dead was the small twitch of his tail once he was safely on the towel.

“Hold on, Chat,” Ladybug told him as she moved to her herb piles, grabbing the important ones and dropping them into the grinder. “It’s going to be alright. I’ll need you to stay awake, though.” The slight shake of her hands as she ground the dried herbs into a powder was the only betrayal of her feelings about the situation. As Ladybug, she’d become accustomed to acting confident, even when she wasn’t. It came to the point that even the feel of the suit against her skin helped calm her nerves. But this wasn’t some random person or even just an old friend. This was Chat, the one who’d been her partner since she was fourteen. He was one of her best friends, and that meant any mistakes at all in healing him were simply _not allowed._

A dollop of aloe helped congeal the plants together, and it wasn’t long before they were the pasty substance she needed them to be. She left it be for a moment, moving over to Chat and examining the wound. It was long and deep. Starting around the middle of his shoulder, the slice extended down to nearly the end of his ribs. The worse of the damage seemed to be to the shoulder, where it looked to be the deepest, but the section along his ribs wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either.

Carefully, she began cleaning the wound, picking out the largest clumps of dirt and leaves from both in and around it. The run through the forest certainly hadn’t done it any good; she ended up using magic on most of it for fear of taking too long cleaning the wound. The power tingled as she reached for it. Her fingertips glowed pink with the force of the power, heightened and densified by her Miraculous. It sent a familiar thrill through her, like a chill of cold but without the drop in temperature. Even so, once she had cleaned it the worst of her job was over. She couldn’t use too much magic on it, for fear of leaving them both drained and the city unprotected by its most powerful pair of defenders. But she spared what she could to shrink the wound and dull the pain, draining it of its threat to his life. After that, the salve was in her hands, gently covering the wound. It only ran to the beginning of his ribs now. The skin and fur around the wound glinted slightly with a pink aura that was barely discernable. The wound was worlds better. It would still take a while to heal, however.

 “You know, if you’d called me you might not have been hurt this bad,” she reprimanded gently. “Not only would I have helped, but you wouldn’t have had to wait for the wound to heal. Though, maybe being out of action for a while will teach you a little bit.”

Naturally, he didn’t reply, though the barest turn of his ear alerted her that he’d heard. Letting out a small sigh, Ladybug set the salve aside, moving to a nearby cabinet. She grabbed the bandages, letting the door shut with a clatter. “I’ll have to wrap you up soon,” she continued, making her way over to him. Setting the cloth down, she ran a few fingers down the top of his head, ignoring the mud. “For now, though, rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Her reply finally came as a small _mrrow_. A soft smile lit up her features, and Ladybug gave him a gentle scratch behind the ear before making her way over to the fireplace. A small cauldron hung inside, its contents giving off a slight scent of rosemary and something else undefinable. She’d started this potion last night, leaving it to sit for a day as needed. Normally, she would have gotten to it before now, but it didn’t seem her tardiness had made it any worse for wear. It was a perfect watery pink, a perfect example of why she still preferred cauldrons over the more current methods. The bubbling made it a bit hard to be sure of how translucent it was, so she grabbed one of the rags stacked neatly on a nearby table. Wrapping it around the handle of the cauldron, she lifted it free, years of physical effort making the move easy. One didn’t grow up as a baker’s daughter and not develop a bit of muscle along the way.

Settling the cauldron on its stand on the work table opposite the one Chat lay, Ladybug grabbed a ladle. The black dot centered on the back of her hand caught her attention. “Oh,” she said, stepping away from the cauldron and looking at herself. “Probably shouldn’t stay like this…” Instinctively, she reached for her earrings to exit her transformation, but a sudden clench in her chest stopped her. It was a feeling like the floor had suddenly disappeared beneath her, leaving her to tumble into a dark abyss. An abyss where she could control neither speed nor direction of her fall.  Quickly she glanced over at Chat, whose breathing had slowed to a pace that could only mean sleep. Four years. Four years she’d been Ladybug, and the only ones who knew her identity were her parents, Alya (plus Nino by extension), and Tikki. Even then, Alya and her parents had been an accident. She didn’t regret them finding out, but an accident all the same.

Chat, however, was the closest to her but also the farthest. He knew everything about her… and nothing at the same time. And it would only be so long before he was coherent enough to figure out where he was. The glamour may change her scent, but he was still in her house, which she spent more time in as Marinette than as Ladybug by far. Plus, he’d been here before. It wasn’t a secret whose house this was. He could have figured it out already and just been in too much pain to properly react. Would he hate her for it? As Marinette, she wasn’t somebody you _wouldn’t_ want to know (not if you wanted your clothes mended well) but if Chat had put her on a pedestal as it sometimes seemed he had… he might see Marinette as a bit of a step-down. Distantly, part of her knew that this was false; that Chat was too kind-hearted to ever think such a thing, but the feeling persisted.  

Her hand fell to her side, fingernails digging into the skin of her palm harshly. “It’s too late,” she murmured, gazing down at her feet. “It’s already done, you’re nervous for no reason.” Part of her wanted to run upstairs, glamour and all, to contact Alya and freak out about what was happening, just as she usually did when… well, _anything_ happened. It was an impulse she doubted she could ever get rid of, but for now, she’d just have to swallow it. Ladybug glanced once more at Chat to be sure that he was still asleep. Throughout her internal crisis, he hadn’t moved, still peacefully asleep, just as he would be until his magic was replenished.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Ladybug reached up once more to her earrings, pressing a finger gently against the stone and whispering “Spots off,” so softly that even she barely heard. Even so, the spell took, and a light pink shimmer moved down her body as her suit disappeared, replacing itself with the clothes she’d been wearing before she’d first started to feel the pain of Chat’s wound. She’d never known one could feel so exposed in a sweater and shorts. Freed from the ribbons, her hair fell loose about her shoulders. Marinette cast about for a new one, hoping the distraction of different tasks would help distract her from what she’d just done. She found one in a pile of scrap fabric, using it to quickly pull her hair back into a ponytail. Then she moved to a cabinet, pulling out some bottles and setting them, one by one, next to the cauldron.

It took a while to fill each individual bottle with the potion as well stop them with a cork, despite the size of the cauldron. Monotonous work had its own way of soothing and Marinette found herself much calmer once she’d tipped the cauldron to pour the last bit of potion into a vial. Shoving a cork into the top, she set it with the others and let out a sigh of relief. Making potions for the weekly market was tiring, but always rewarding. It’d been Tikki’s suggestion, years ago, selling happiness potions with her clothing at the market. She’d said it would help give them an idea on who might be akumized next. No creature in their right mind would buy a happiness potion if they didn’t need it; all it would do is send them into an unpleasant manic episode. If Marinette were honest, she’d been skeptical of the idea at first, but now, years later, she’d never go a week without it. She spent a few more moments putting the bottles neatly into a wooden crate, then leaving it be to check on Chat.

The time he’d had to nap had done him good; she could tell even with a simple glance. His aura of magic had returned, and even his fur seemed brighter despite its dark color. Marinette began to get the bandages ready, rolling them neatly onto her right hand before setting them aside. She then woke Chat with a few fingers to head, stoically ignoring the racing of her heart. Now wasn’t the time to be nervous. Not when shaking hands could cause Chat more pain than help him. Waiting until the flick of one ear told her that Chat was awake and aware (though he thankfully made no attempt to look at her), Marinette dipped her fingers into the plant paste she’d made earlier, cleaning away any new blood shed as she added a second layer of the paste to the wound, adding extra to the spots where blood had escaped. Chat shuddered with each stroke but otherwise made no attempt to move away. Her only clue into how much pain the werecat was in was his quick and shallow breaths. While the nap had done good, it had been a good chance for the

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated again and again until the wound was entirely covered, at which point she coaxed him gently to his feet. “Almost done.” He stood still while she wrapped the bandages tightly around him, making sure every so often that he could breathe without difficulty. Once the job was complete she stood back, looking him over to be sure that every part of the wound was covered. Chat did the same, looking back at his side with the slow care of one who wasn’t sure if an action might pain them. They both deemed it fine, Marinette with a nod and Chat with a happy meow. It was then that their eyes met for the first time, and the werecat froze in surprise.

It was a moment Marinette doubted she’d ever forget. Neither of them moved for a few moments of abated breathe, one in fear and the other in shock. Moments like those could not last forever, though, and Chat soon sat down carefully with a wince. Evidently deciding that such a position was too uncomfortable, he flopped his legs out to the side, sitting instead on the hip that wasn’t injured.

“Of all the people it could have been,” he said, his voice betraying an exhaustion and excitement she thoroughly understood. “I’m glad it was you, my Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story begins! 
> 
> Kinda. Prologues are funny. 
> 
> Just a heads up, I'm going to be heading to volunteer at a camp on the twelfth! I'll be gone a week, so there might be a jump of two weeks in terms of chapter releases soon; sorry about that. 
> 
> I said I'd add anything to be curious of in this universe, so here we are:
> 
> Werecats: Similar to werewolves, but able to shift between human and cat form at will. Often exhibit catlike behaviors in both forms. Notable for their unconscious holding and usage of magic, often in situations of distress or other such emotional highs. The possession of a miraculous heightens their control over their form changing, as well as increases their magical capabilities. Their cat form is typically larger than that of a regular house cat (more of a Maine Coon size), which is one defining factor of the species. Often, young werecats stuck in their feline form are found by humans and mistaken as a stray.
> 
> Witches: Just like the stories, witches are female magic users. However, most tend to have one specialty or a 'talent' that they are simply better at than most other witches. It's not chosen; some witches have talents that, at first, they absolutely abhorred the idea of. When given a miraculous, the idea of a 'talent' is taken away. The witch becomes able to practice most sorts of magic, though they tend to lean more towards the type of magic their miraculous is geared towards. 
> 
> If you have any questions feel free to ask! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for random comments on the progress of the story and what I'm currently writing at @wispedheart 
> 
> If ya want a fun fact about this chapter, it was actually the first thing I started writing for this fic, not the prologue. I was stuck in a car for a long time, so I ended up just pulling out my notebook and writing. Paranormalcy was the result!
> 
> Thank you!


	3. Late Again

Embers popped intermittently in the fireplace, unattended to now that the object they were meant to warm was gone. Even so, Chat gravitated to the leftover heat like a bug to light, spread out like a rug in front of the grate. He watched with amusement as Marinette hurried back and forth, cleaning various parts of the cottage by hand, and others by magic. Fabrics swirled around the room, folding themselves neatly and stacking into a basket. Bandages and vials and herbs all found themselves into their correct cabinets. Dishes made their way into the dishwasher. Chat even had to duck to allow scraps of fabric and thread too small for use to flick by him into the fireplace. The two visible rooms were clean within mere minutes, leaving him with a distinct jealousy that his magic didn’t work when it came to practical matters like cleaning.

            After he’d greeted her, Lad- _Marinette_ had seemed shocked, as if she’d been expecting him to say something else (what else he wasn’t sure). She’d grown silent, for so long that he’d begun to worry that, perhaps, he’d been wrong. Ladybug had said at one point she knew Marinette, maybe he’d been led here for that reason? But his nose wasn’t one to lie. Ladybug’s scent was fading. She wasn’t in the cottage at all, and unless there was an akuma attack, she’d always been too much of a worrywart to leave him when he was hurt. When you factored in the fact that Marinette and Ladybug were the same height, general age, as well as the same midnight hair and _perfect_ bluebell eyes, it was surprising that he hadn’t seen it before. He hadn’t seen Marinette much lately, either as Adrien or Chat Noir, but during school, he’d been around her nearly every day. Add in the frequency of the akuma attacks back then, and it was almost embarrassing he hadn’t known. Yes, her glamour concealed her identity, just as his and all the others did. Yes, now that he knew her identity, the glamour would no longer be able to trick him. All the same, it felt a bit like a failure on his part. He’d loved Ladybug for so long it felt like a part of his very being. And yet, she’d been so close to him the entire time, both within reach and without of it. Just like moonlight scattered across his bedroom floor.

            Her silence had finally been broken when she’d reached up to scratch her neck, laughing nervously. “Ahh, yes, it’s me, kitty. Little old me… I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but I didn’t really have a choice…” She’d trailed off, seemingly at loss for words for a moment. Then Marinette locked eyes with him again. She’d always had the sort of gaze that not even a cat like him could match or ignore. Most times, he found the urge to simply lose himself in the depths of her eyes irresistible. Today, he’d stiffened slightly, aware exactly of what was coming.

            “What happened?” she’d asked.

            Chat shifted uncomfortably, wrenching his eyes away. It seemed karma had its own way of swift redemption, and he’d found himself feeling as she no doubt had only moments ago. His duty was to tell her what had happened at his home. Why he’d disappeared, why he’d had to escape. Why he’d shown up at her doorstep, covered in blood and mud and the Guardians knew what else. Images flashed in his mind. A blonde werecat, followed by the face of his mother. His father, followed by the face of their enemy. Blood staining the floor of the music room, to the point that even the best cleaning products couldn’t get rid of the red he swore he still saw on the piano’s keys. Yelling, doors slamming, solitude… it all flew by like a PowerPoint ran by a trigger-happy three-year-old. But when Chat opened his mouth, the words stuck in his throat like peanut butter would to the roof of his mouth.

            “I,” he’d managed to start, then stopped just as quickly, shifting again. A glance let him know she was staring at him. The worry in her gaze both melted his heart and sent a stab of guilt through him at what he knew he was about to do to her. It was vital that he tell her what he’d found, _who_ he’d found, what circumstances had changed. What he knew could end their years-long battle within the month. But it also struck far too close to home in more ways than one.

            “I can’t say,” he’d replied, looking studiously down at his paws. “Not yet. I know you deserve an explanation, but I just can’t.”

            “… Okay, I understand.”

            Chat’s head shot up, and he looked at her in shock. Marinette was the picture of her words, the calm and leftover worry in her gaze and posture enough to prove to him the truth of her words. That knowledge drew whatever leftover tension he’d been holding in his limbs away. He’d drooped visibly, ears hanging low on his head. Marinette’s scent came closer, and a hand fell on his head, scratching gently between his ears. Unconsciously, he leaned in closer. It was curious what months of a lack of any affection at all could do to a person.

            “I think I’ll keep you here for a while, kitty. At least until your wound is healed up.”

            Knowing better than to argue, and not one to turn away a warm bed when offered, Chat nodded. He’d allowed Marinette to lift him gently into her arms. She set him by the fireplace, and there he’d stayed. Now the room was clean, and she was shutting the last cabinet with a satisfied expression on her face. “I have a spare room upstairs,” Marinette began as she made her way over. “You can stay there. It’s clean; I originally set it up for Alya but most times we just end up crashing on my bed. You’re welcome to it, though.”

            “Thank you,” Chat replied politely. It seemed politeness and nervousness were the only things he could manage tonight. He couldn’t even remember the last pun he’d made. For once, it seemed, exhaustion ruled over puns, however, so he made no attempt to tack one on, simply setting his head on his paws as she sat down in front of him, holding her hands out to the embers behind him.

            “Still warm,” Marinette muttered absently, rubbing them together. She looked beautiful in the firelight, glowing like the goddess of perfection he’d once been so sure she personified. Times had changed, and he’d known even before her reveal that she was anything but perfect, but the feelings behind the belief had never changed. They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, both either too tired or too encompassed in their own thoughts to even attempt to do so. Soon, Chat found himself being pet in long strokes, each one far enough away from his wound that he felt no pain. Allowing himself to become lost in the sensation, the werecat closed his eyes. The level of exhaustion in his body ensured that he wouldn’t open them again that night.

            When the firelight had drifted to a bare glow, Marinette stood, scooping Chat with her. He didn’t move, evidently tired enough that even a jostling motion couldn’t wake him. A smile tugged at her lips, and she let him be, propping him close to her chest as she made her rounds downstairs, turning off lights and starting the dishwasher before heading upstairs. Inside the guest room, she tucked him beneath the duvet, planting one last stroke to the top of his head. “Sleep well, mon chaton,” she said, before leaving him to retreat to her own room. Sleep welcomed her with a wide embrace.

 

            For the first time in her life, Marinette found herself woken not by something that wasn’t an alarm clock or her mother. No, the young witch found herself opening her eyes to Chat looming above her. His paw was poised to poke her nose a second time, a mischievous visage painted over his features.

            “Good morning,” he greeted her, waving his tail back and forth. For a werecat that’d been close to death less than twelve hours ago, Chat seemed rather chipper. In fact, had he not still had the bandages covering most of his midsection and chest, she would’ve thought he’d completely healed. Either way, it was no excuse to wake her up before she had to get ready.

            “No, it’s not,” Marinette grumbled, turning over and pulling the blankets up over her head. “Go to sleep.”

            Chat climbed up on her side, flinching only slightly from what she could tell. “But my Lady, the early werecat catches the mouse. I can’t go back to sleep. It’s already nine, after all.”

            “That’s not even the right prov-“ Her eyes snapped wide open as his words truly registered. _Was it nine?_

            “I’m LATE!” she screeched, throwing back the covers and scrambling out of bed. Chat cleared the way with a surprised mewl, the fur on his back standing up halfway. It might have been comical on a normal day.

            “For what!?” he asked, making his way over to the edge of the bed and watching her as she ran about the room getting ready. She ignored him for a moment, focused on her task. She couldn’t believe she’d slept in! It was understandable, given the amount of magic she’d used last night, but all the same…

            Clothes in hand, Marinette paused, turning to look worriedly at Chat. She couldn’t leave him here on his own, not in a state like this. What if an akuma caught hold of his magic signature? Hers was hidden more easily than his, given that he technically had four forms, between Chat Noir and whatever his daily persona was. She didn’t want to force him into a reveal when he wasn’t ready for it, either. Her lack of choice didn’t mean he lost his as well.

            “You can’t be in here while I change,” Marinette informed him instead of voicing her thoughts. Chat nodded in understanding, shuffling a bit before jumping from the bed to the floor. Evidently, he wasn’t as healed as he seemed to be, given the yelp he released upon landing and the small tingle that came to her ears. Raindrops of fear followed, sending an eerie chill down her spine that usually reserved itself for akuma battles.

            “Chat!” she gasped, rushing over and throwing her clothes haphazardly on the bed to free her hands. Crouching next to him, she ran her hands gently over the bandages, checking for any sign that the wound had opened. “Why would you do that?”

            “I got up just fine,” he replied, shaking off the pain and meeting her eye. His apology was clear enough in his gaze even before he could voice it, melting away whatever irritation Marinette had been holding. Her shoulders dropped from where they’d been tensed close to her neck.

            “No jumping,” she ordered, reaching out to run a hand down his back. He nodded seriously even as he purred, arching into the stroke. For some reason, the combination of the two motions was so peculiar that she couldn’t hold back a giggle, shaking her head at him. “Come on, I need to change.”

Scooping Chat into her arms, Marinette left him outside of the door while she got dressed. She held up the summer dress she’d chosen, smiling happily. It was one of her favorite things to wear, especially on market days. Slipping it on, she dropped her nightclothes in the hamper and opened the door. Chat, who’d been staring up at a picture on the wall, turned his gaze to her and promptly yelped. Dropping his eyes to the floor, his ears tipped back in what years of time spent with him told her was embarrassment.

“You can’t wear that!” he yelped, his voice slightly higher than usual.

“Why not? It’s my favorite dre-“ For the second time that morning, Marinette paused mid-sentence as realization hit her. “OhmygodI’msosorry!” she squeaked, rushing back into the room. The door slammed behind her, rattling the picture and ruffling Chat’s long fur.

It didn’t take long before she was emerging once more, this time in a black top and a pair of pink jeans. A jacket lay draped over her arm. Chat was exactly where she’d left him. “If it helps, the dress was very cute,” he placated, looking up at her with a slightly worried expression on his face.

“Oh, hush,” she told him, scooping him carefully into her arms before making her way down the stairs. “You’re lucky you’re injured, or I would’ve had to kick you down the hall for seeing that.” She held him a little tighter on the way down the stairs, worried the bouncing would jostle his wound.

“I’ll never mention it again, my Lady,” he replied. “Cat’s honor! Unless you want me too,” he tacked the last sentence on with a wink that sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Of course you won’t,” Marinette set him on the counter, brushing a few strands of cat hair from her shirt as she did so. “It’s a good thing I wore black, huh? Now, wait here a minute,” Flicking it away, she began gathering things and bringing them outside. Clothes, fabric, some strange wooden crate... She seemed very hurried, despite the languid nature with which she spoke to him. “We’re late for the market. It doesn’t start for another hour or so, but usually, I would be set up by now. I can’t leave you alone here like that, either, so I need you to hide your miraculous somehow. Can you do that?”

Chat tipped his head to the side in curiosity but nodded. “I’ll be in my regular werecat form if I detransform. The glamour protecting my normal magic signature would be gone.” _You’d know in a moment who I am,_ he wanted to add but chose not to. It was strange; once upon a time, he would have jumped at the chance to show her who he was. But ever since the events of six months ago, he’d found himself more and more eager to hide that side of his life.

Marinette frowned slightly as she snapped a lid onto a bucket. “Everybody knows exactly what Chat Noir looks like in his werecat form. Some people know that I know you, but I don’t want that to spread around, and for people to start guessing.” Pausing, she walked over, looking him up and down. “Is there any way you can edit the glamour on the collar? The bell is a bit of a dead giveaway, so we could put a bow on or something. It’s lucky that you look so much like a Maine Coon.”

“Sure thing, princess,” he replied. Nonchalantly lifting a paw, he batted the bell on his neck. It tinkled lightly with the motion before disappearing in a glimmer of green magic.  

“Acceptable,” Marinette replied, retrieving a picnic basket and holding it out. “Hop inside. It’ll be easier than carrying you everywhere.”

“Why do I have a dull feeling I’m getting turned into a pet?” he asked, willingly clambering into the basket, ignoring the twinge of pain along his flank. He’d felt worse, after all.

“You act as though you’d oppose to it,” Marinette replied, carrying him outside with the last bag. Her car was small, and electric, as all cars in Parille tended to be. Fossil fuels had been banned in the city years ago, leaving most things powered by electricity or magic or both. She had yet to get a car with any sort of crystal inside to power it, so at the moment electric was her choice. Setting Chat and his basket in the passenger seat, Marinette turned it on and pulled out of her driveway.

Traffic was low, thankfully, as it always was. It helped that a good many chose to travel through the air rather than by car. Though she did wish some of the more height-fearing witches chose not to hover their brooms so close to the ground. At that point, they might as well drive. Half of the fun in flying was the excitement in daring the sky that you could go higher. If she hadn’t had so many items to cart home, Marinette might have taken her broom herself. As it was, it was propped peacefully next to her door at home.

“The best excuse at hand is a familiar,” she started, jerking Chat’s attention from the landscape passing by out of the window. Even with his having been trapped for so long, the city seemed just the same as it always had. It was comforting, in its own sort of way. “So we’ll stick with that. Make sure to keep your magic signature attached to mine, without any sort of blending between them it won’t be believable. And don’t talk, that’s a dead giveaway.” He nodded in reply. They’d blended their signatures before, it was nothing new. Blending his with Marinette’s would be new, but the change in the feel of their combined signatures should be enough to deter anybody who might suspect who he was, especially when one considered that the last time the city had seen Chat Noir was a few months ago, and he hadn’t been injured then.

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his magic, brushing against Marinette’s in a gentle sort of caress, testing the waters. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye but showed no other physical reaction to his touch. The feel of her magic softened, the natural barriers that anybody with or without magic possessed lowering just enough to allow him inside. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about doing this with his Lady. At this point it was almost natural, their magics were made to blend with one another. Oftentimes a battle would end and they would find them entwined without a prompting from either party. Twining his magic with Marinette _should_ be the same, given she was still his Lady. But the lack of glamour that comprised Ladybug left an altogether different feel to it, leaving him with the innate sense that he was doing something invasive, something altogether too intimate. It left him more careful than usual, blending their signatures with an almost nonexistent pull.

            By the time Marinette parked behind her shop, their signatures were thoroughly blended. The effort he’d put into it was probably over the top, but all the same, the comfort he felt once it was done was strange. He’d never been a familiar, but outside of such a bond magic blending was the closest one could get. The magic bonds between him and Ladybug were always rushed, but now he understood why many beings stressed care in creating such bonds, even if temporary. The better the bond was, the more connective it was, and the more amplification it created between the two parties.

            Alya was waiting for them near the back door, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. She wore a cloak over her typical day clothes, as many creatures tended to do while out and about in the city. “Thank the Guardians!” she huffed as she made her way over to meet Marinette as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. Her ears and (supposedly) her tail were undisguised for once, the former tipped slightly back in irritation. “I was starting to wonder if you’d crashed your broom into a tree again.”

            “You know that wasn’t my fault!” Marinette whined, slumping dramatically as she pulled a box out of the car, handing it and the keys over to Alya. “That harpy wasn’t looking where she was going.”

            “Neither were you,” Alya shot back as she headed inside, propping open the door with a stone. Marinette huffed, grabbing a smaller bag of sewing supplies and rounding the car. Chat did his best impression of a cat’s meow as she opened the door, blinking in hopes she’d understand. Marinette and Alya had been friends for years…Was Alya aware she was Ladybug? Was he supposed to hide around her as well?

            Marinette smiled, giving him a small scratch behind the ear. “Good kitty,” she told him, gently lifting the basket out of the seat.

            “Is there a cat out here?” Alya asked as she returned, empty-handed. “Better chase it off, I’m pretty sure the shop owners next door are part kappa.”

            “They are, I asked, but they don’t strike me as those who have a taste for cats,” Marinette replied as she made her way for the door. Alya’s eyes widened when she caught sight of Chat, nestled neatly in the basket. Swiftly, she turned to follow Marinette inside, questions poised so visibly on her face Chat could swear they were written on her lips.

            “If you’re going to interrogate me at least wait until I’ve got everything set up,” Marinette cut her off neatly.

            The back door led straight into a storage room. It was just as messy as you’d expect any storage room to be, though the paint on the walls and the cleanliness of the floors suggested that Marinette took pains to keep it at least somewhat in order. Despite this, she had to pause near the door into the shop to shift a box aside with her foot. “Welcome to the Bluebell Boutique, kitty,” she pushed the door open, stepping into the main area of the shop. She set him on the front desk, leaving him to gaze freely as she returned to the car.

            The area was medium in size, furnished sparsely if one ignored the racks of clothing. The front desk spanned the entire back of the store, seeming to have a section for a book of designs (both future and current) as well as a space for altering clothing, and a book for recording purchases, be it a trade of an item through the use of human cash, though the latter was less common. A door to what Chat assumed to be dressing rooms sat against the left wall. Marinette’s signature flowered design was visible along the same wall. On the other side, shelves instead lined the wall, filled with various bottles and items of ranging colors and shapes. From what he could tell, it was primarily potions and enchanted items. All in all, it was undeniably cute and screamed Marinette so powerfully Chat could have told the shop’s owner even if he hadn’t already known its owner.

            It wasn’t long before the shop itself had been set up, and a table outside with it. Setting the dress Marinette had finished only last night on a rack marked “Taken”, Alya slammed her hands on the counter next to him. Predictably, he nearly jumped out of his skin, the movement pulling at his wound and drawing a small hiss from his throat.

            “So what’s with the pussy?”

            “ _Alya,”_ Marinette gasped, reminding him distinctly of Manon when she hurt what she deemed a ‘bad word’. Chat purred in amusement, laughter out of his reach until he was in human form again. The kitsune didn’t reply, staring her down and awaiting an answer. Marinette mimicked her, and a stalemate of sorts formed. Eyes locked, arms crossed, and stances squared. The air itself stilled, and Chat found himself glancing back and forth between the two as discreetly as possible. Moments passed in silence, and still neither moved. He remembered them doing this in school, but it had always been a mere few seconds. Evidently, they’d brushed up on their skills in their weird sort of telepathy.

            “FINE!” Marinette burst out, flinging her hands into the air. Alya did a little jig of excitement before plopping into the cashier’s chair, looking between the witch and the cat eagerly. Pouting a bit, Marinette reached up and played with a strand of hair. “Chat Noir is back,” she finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Sorry that this is so late, classes started and sucked my time away with them. 
> 
> I've started the next chapter, though I'm only a couple sentences in. I'm hoping to get it done within 2 weeks or so.
> 
> Please ignore the jumps between indents and lack thereof, I keep trying to fix that every chapter but all it does is put it right back when I finish editing it. It's a bit frustrating.


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